


Revelations

by closetcellist, Decoder13, DelusionsbyBonnie, The London-in-the-Air Archival Society (sakuuya)



Series: New Adventures of the London-in-the-Air Archival Society [2]
Category: Battle for London in the Air
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-13 07:25:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14744489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closetcellist/pseuds/closetcellist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decoder13/pseuds/Decoder13, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelusionsbyBonnie/pseuds/DelusionsbyBonnie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakuuya/pseuds/The%20London-in-the-Air%20Archival%20Society
Summary: Rescued set descriptions (and set images, where possible) from round three of the Polyvore battle group The New Adventures of London-in-the-Air. Primarily not my work, uploaded here for archival purposes.





	1. Round Information / @sakuuya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @sakuuya, aka [sakuuya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakuuya). It was part of the set-up for this round.

First of all, thanks to everybody who entered the last contest! I had a blast reading about all your characters’ romances.

LITA ended before we got to make use of the big list of secrets (http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=214814458), so for this competition, it’s time to write about one of those secrets coming to light. PLEASE don’t write about your character learning who the mole or Archivist are (those secrets are huge enough that they might get their own contests somewhere down the line), but any of the other secrets on that list are fair game. Heck, if you wanna write about how your character found out a secret they’ve known since the beginning of the game, be my guest.

There was a general preference last round for stories being optional components, so that’s how we’re gonna roll for the time being. As such, feel free to answer the main description requirement in either story or summary form—though keep in mind that entries with full stories are likely to place higher.

EXAMPLE SET: https://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=226280395

P.S. Lord Beck is gonna die this contest, everybody. If you happen to need him for information of something, LITA’s timeline is vague enough that we can just assume your story is set before mine for this round, but he will not be available for contests explicitly set later in the plot.

\-----

NEW ADVENTURES OF LONDON-IN-THE-AIR CONTEST 2: REVELATIONS

SET REQUIREMENTS  
[ ] 1+ pictures of your character  
[ ] 1+ pictures of a character related to the secret your character uncovered  
[ ] Handwritten lettering  
[ ] An item from the Wallpaper category (or one you found in a collection of wallpapers)  
[ ] A picture of the moon

DESCRIPTION REQUIREMENTS  
[ ] Which secret did your character uncover? It can be anything from the secrets post (https://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=214814458) OTHER THAN “who is the main mole feeding resistance information to the government” or “who is the Archivist.”

[ ] Describe (in a story or summary) how your character found this secret out.

[ ] Please rank the following dangling LITA plots in descending order of how interested you are in having your OC participate in them (i.e. with the one you’re most interested in first): the government cyborg program, the Low Town, the mole, the Archivist, and all-out rebellion/government war. If you’re not at all interested in one of those things, feel free to not list it. I’ll be using everybody’s lists as a way to prioritize addressing these things in future contests.

[ ] Tag the mods @decoder13 and @sakuuya


	2. Answers to Secrets / @decoder13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user (and LITA creator) @decoder13, aka [Decoder13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decoder13). It was posted as a wrap-up set for the original LITA, but is included here because it was used heavily for this round.

As promised, after the premature end of LITA in battle group form, I have indeed compiled the answers to all of the secrets teased in Round 5 into a single set for your perusing pleasure. This will also likely be of some importance in any future wrap-up stories that might be written :) It will be posted to the LITA Continuation group for LITA stories and RP as soon as I start said group. Expect a brief contest-by-contest summary of my planned course events for what the last contests of LITA would have focused on (particularly the explosive craziness of Round 6) within a few days of this.

Some of the secrets below felt pretty self-explanatory, or else were enough to the side of the main plot's resolution that I'm cool with people taking them in any direction they so please. Others felt like they needed a little (or a lot) of explanation to make sense. If I didn't explain a secret you'd really love to see a full explanation to, please let me know! Besides that, I am currently planning to keep adding explanations as I have the time and as the right words to map things out in this context strike me, anyway.

One last thing - do some of these twists seem a bit crazy? A few of them were meant to be! One of LITA's genres, in my mind, has always been dark satire to an extent. And I had a blast parodying some common motifs of Victorian fiction, sci-fi, historical fiction, and soap operas with this. The whole world is supposed to be over-the-top and dramatic and intricate and insane and morbidly amusing - that's where much of my joy and love for LITA stemmed from, and I hope you enjoyed (and will continue to enjoy!) the rollicking insanity as much as I did!!!

So, without further ado...

Here they are.

\-----

THE LITA SECRETS' ANSWERS ARE...

1\. Was Mayor Steers' mentor and father figure up through his early rise to power? - Cedric Thornton

2\. Is the main mole feeding resistance information to the government? - Dr. Massey

3\. Is not going by their birth name/legal name/real name? - Percy Albright (Michael Albright Shipley), Dave Heaton (Hugh Allen Shipley), Ben Easton (Brian Conor Everton), and Xavier Carmichael (John Brand)

4\. Was recently betrayed by their only close friend and now seeks revenge on a massive scale? - Chairman Hazard. This involves Hazard not knowing that Walt Steers is only "half of a man" even though his daughter was engaged to the boy. Hazard is a very, very petty man. A LITA theme that would have emerged near the end would be the idea of what happens when a closely interconnected pool of the same families and sorts of people stews around in power for a long time without ever making an effort to reach out. Eventually, they'll destroy each other, and pull everything and everyone they control along with them.

5\. Is trying to dismantle the government's most recent offshoots of their cyborg experiments from the inside? - Dave Heaton and Fortuna Doland

6\. Who plans to seize control of the government when objectively stronger players have all taken each other out of the game? - Dr. Massey and Charlotte, Lady Sterling (each with their own agenda, mind you)

7\. Is in the government but could potentially be swayed to switch sides? - Dave Heaton, Nori Lynch, Fortuna Doland, Elmira Hazard

8\. Are secretly a pair of siblings (though only one of them knows it)? - Percy Albright and Dave Heaton (birth names Michael and Hugh Shipley, respectively)

9\. Has the most military experience of any LITA NPC? - Bart Spencer

10\. Is considering resigning from their current position out of sheer terror of their boss? - Professor Burns

11\. Has been told by multiple doctors that they are expected to live about a year longer, maybe less? - Mayor Steers

12\. Are currently having an affair with each other? - Mrs. Hazard and Xavier Carmichael

13\. Is the person Elmira Hazard would actually like to marry? - Nori Lynch

14\. Is secretly an agent of the Prime Minister tasked with monitoring the developing situation in LITA? - Xavier Carmichael (Birth name John Brand)

15\. Was born a b.astard child? - Thaddeus Beck. Thaddeus's noble "father" is not his biological father, but this baby was the only child said nobleman's wife ever bore, and faced with a crisis of heredity and with renewed devotion to his neglected and much-smarter-than-him wife, the elder Beck ultimately decided to raise the boy as his own. Thaddeus has no clue of this. Who the real dad is can be found in another secret below...

16\. Is deathly allergic to bees? - Chairman Hazard

17\. Murdered someone in cold blood for their money? - Devon Calder and G. Rufus Doland (in TOTALLY separate and unrelated instances). Devon murdered his aging estranged earl cousin in order to be able to be someone in the world. G. Rufus Doland kind of left a sketchy, hard-to-fully-map-or-justify trail of corpses during his initial rise to power, and suspicions of this are what prevented his childhood sweetheart Fortuna from being his first wife, actually. Fortuna eventually ended up marrying him mostly to spy on him. She might not care much about the poor, but that doesn't mean that she has no moral limits and draws no lines. She's actually working with experiment/assassin Dave Heaton (the son of proto-resistance members who began resisting before there even was a resistance) to thwart her husband's efforts to industrialize and institutionalize the whole evil zombie cyborg prgram ;)

18\. Had parents who were victims of numerous hate crimes, culminating in their father's death? - Ben Easton

19\. Is the best fighter of all the non-assassin, non-military government NPCs? - Simon Page

20\. Abandoned a wealthy background and left their homeland after killing their best friend in a duel? - Ambrose Lynch, who was born and raised in Ireland.

21\. Struggles to sleep without having the tiny stuffed toy their mother made for them as a child under their pillow? - Mayor Steers

22\. Is dyslexic and was considered "stupid" as a child? - Dr. Kern

23\. Are the closest things the resistance has to professional assassins? - Phoebe Emery and Chauncey Spencer

24\. Is the secret benefactor of several orphanages and a hospital for the poor, and without any intentional ulterior motives? - Percy Albright

25\. Once ran off to join the circus but was found by their family and dragged home after only a few months? - Walt Steers

26\. Went through a "masked crime fighting vigilante" phase in their younger years? - Mrs. Eugenie Howard-Dutch. She was pretty much LITA's Batman for a few years there.

27\. Is deeply in love with Chauncey Spencer? - Georgina Gunn. Her rival for his affections (and the person that is Chauncey's endgame) is @closetcellist's Irving Suttler :)

28\. Is the most powerful and influential scientist in LITA, and the driving force behind the current cyborg zombie program? - Charlotte, Lady Sterling

29\. Is insanely superstitious and holds regular privates seances in an attempt to contact their dead loved ones? - Thaddeus Beck and Mayor Steers

30\. Recently aborted an attempt to assassinate Mayor Steers at the last possible second? - Ambrose Lynch

31\. Has attempted an assassination of Chairman Hazard (and was dang near successful, at that)? - Phoebe Emery

32\. Has attempted an assassination of Charlotte, Lady Sterling? - Chauncery Spencer

33\. Was a founding member of the rebellion but returned to the government early on? - Captain Oswald Scarborough, a friend of Bart's from the military.

34\. Is planning to assassinate Dr. Massey for purely personal reasons? - Nori Lynch

35\. -----

36\. Is the child of a Hazard? - Nat Catchpole. Her mother Emmeline was an estranged older sister of Alistair and Charlotte Hazard. Emmeline and her well-bred husband ran away from home because Emmeline's father didn't find said well-bred husband well-bred enough. Things did not go well from there - people got poor and sad (though Emmeline and her husband's relationship never fell apart or went sour), and Emmeline died, because this is a Victorian story about foolish youths eloping, and what else could possibly happen? Nat's father was still seen as a threat when he resurfaced, though, because he knew some serious hazard dirt. This makes Nat Chairman Hazard's niece and Elmira's cousin.

37\. Is the child of Vernon Massey? - THADDEUS BECK, aka The Walking Gothic Soap Opera

38\. Will assassinate Mayor Steers (unless stopped for some reason) within a week of the chronological end of Contest 5? - Dave Heaton

39\. Have been bitter arch-rivals in their field since youth (two characters)? - Georgina Gunn and Charlotte, Lady Sterling

40\. Saw a parent of theirs killed by Ambrose Lynch but was spared themselves (likely against official orders)? - Nat Catchpole.

41\. Has a memory so good that they are practically a walking back-up system for key resistance files and info, but does not widely share this so as to avoid becoming a major target? - Arianna Barclay, old as she is, has a superb memory. Though she's currently training someone as her successor. Namely Linus Isham, whose secretly photographic memory is actually a major reason why anyone still keeps him around.

42\. Rejected romantic advances from a young Everett Steers? - Helena Spencer-Curtis

43\. Abandoned their career after their partner at work was tortured for information and then killed by government agents for discovering what had happened to said partner's own family members? - Roger Ridley. And who was this partner at work, you might ask? One Abigail Shipley, also Ridley's betrothed at the time, who discovered something apparently horrible about what happened to her parents and to her younger brother Hugh when they dissappeared without a trace a few years prior. She never did get a chance to tell Roger what happened. Her brother Michael, formerly a bit less optimistic and gung-ho in his pursuit of his lost family than Abby, dissappeared shortly after her death. But Michael didn't die. Instead, he reinvented himself and Percy Albright, criminal and then crime lord extraordinaire, and decided he'd fix things himself, however messy it might get.

44\. Is semi-closely related to Chairman Hazard and Charlotte, Lady Sterling and thus is invited to many of the Hazards' and Sterlings' events without having to pull any strings at all - but is considered just enough of a black sheep that the familial connection isn't explicitly publically acknowledged? - Mrs. Massey, a 3rd cousin of Chairman Hazard's and an occassional babysitter of his in his youth. Their offshoots of the family had a huge but private falling out with each other, and she's still invited to lots of parties. She, in turn, usually passes the invitations on to Roger Ridley, printer extraordinaire, and that's how he's able to make so many convincing fake invitations to important events.

45\. Is a personal friend of the current Prime Minister? - Xavier Carmichael, aka John Brand, aka LITA's answer to James Bond.

46\. Is part of a continent-spanning secret society? - Sir Clinton Sterling. This was a good portion of why his wife came to "care for" him, actually. He had connections she could exploit. Plus she did genuinely grow to like him. Though not enough to prevent her from shooting him in a planned Round 6 event upon learning that he'd discovered the full extent of her mad genius scientist aspirations and threatened to betray her and take their children away from her.

47\. Writes scandalous, weighty, world-questioning poetry widely published in more radical papers and journals, but under a pseudonym? - Elmira Hazard, surprisingly enough. There is something going on in that pretty skull of hers after all, but most of that something is sad, subversive, tortured, and dark. FUN FACT: If you're seeing some parallels with Lord Beck in Elmira's character now, you're not wrong, and no, I wasn't being unoriginal. I initially conceived Elmira's character as a young female Lord Beck in the making ;)

48\. Was born in the Low Town but escaped? - Tommy Black and Phoebe and Bram Emery

49\. Has been being sporadically blackmailed by someone they considered a good friend, and for almost two years at that? - Bart Spencer

50\. Once saved young Everett Steers from being beaten up by a group of older boys when they were in school together? - Bart Spencer

51\. Is the Archivist? - Percy Albright, aka Michael Shipley, who's been watching the resistance for years but doesn't totally agree with it and has eyes and ears EVERYWHERE due to being pretty much in control of all crime and questionable goings on in LITA. Also, he's exploited his so-called alliance with the government to get information about the whereabouts of his "dissappeared, presumed dead" brother Hugh aka Dave. Plus to get revenge for the death of his sister Abby, which he partially blames his own initial hopelessness and inaction for. For more info, see secret #43.


	3. Andrew O'Rourke / @delusionsbybonnie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @delusionsbybonnie, aka [DelusionsByBonnie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelusionsbyBonnie)

“O’Rourke! What’d you do now?”

Andrew looked around and scowed. “Nothin’. Why?”

Davis grinned and pointed down the quay. “There’s a priest over there asking for you.”

Andrew breathed a curse and nodded. The man in the broad-brimmed hat stood motionless, face overshadowed, and it wasn’t until he was no more than arm’s length from the man that he recognized him.

“Liam! Mary and Joseph, what are you doing here? And why are you--”

His brother held up a hand, shushing him. “Not here. Someplace quiet.”

“The Horse and Hounds, then. Up that street, then your third left. Tell ‘em you’re with me, ask for a quiet spot. I’ll be along in another hour or so, once we finish unloading this ship.”

Liam smiled and nodded. “In an hour, then. God bless you, my son,” he added in a louder voice, clearly for the benefit of Davis, who was lingering a little too close to be nonchalant.

“Well?” Davis demanded as Liam walked away.

“A friend of me brother’s from home. Shift your arse! This lot won’t unload itself.”

  
It was closer to an hour and a half later when Andrew was finally free, and he made his way to the pub as quickly as he could. It was as noisy and crowded as ever, although there was an empty space around Liam’s corner table, the crowd kept at bay seemingly by the sheer force of his will, though it was more likely by the tall priest’s collar. Not many religious sorts ever found their way to the Horse and Hounds, and even the irrepressible Mamie seemed more subdued for his presence.

Andrew collected his usual pint and sat across from his brother, who had thankfully removed the hat and placed it beside him on the table. “What the hell are you doing here? And why are you dressed like a priest? That dog collar won’t save you if they figure out who you are.”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “So you’re lecturing me on recklessness now, are you?”

“Dammit, Liam, don’t try to get out of it. Does Father Kelly know about this?”

“Who d’you think lent me the clothes? I’ll be spending enough time in prayer if I don’t get caught. No, I’m here looking for a man named Lynch. Ambrose Lynch. He was part of the cause before my time, and I heard he came here after he broke ties.”

Andrew nearly choked on his beer. “Lynch the mayor’s pet assassin? That bastard was part of the cause?”

“Sympathetic to it, at the very least.” Liam frowned, drumming the tabletop softly with his fingertips. “He’s part of this government you’re fighting?”

“Aye, and his daughter is worse. And his apprentice. Damn, Liam, you’ve put your foot in it this time.”

Liam smiled wryly. “It’s usually me telling you that, isn’t it? But enough of that for now. How’ve you been?”

Andrew took a long drink. “Well, that is tellin’...”

 ***

Andrew poured some water into his washbasin and dunked his head, pulling it out and shaking like a dog. Liam looked up in annoyance, gently dabbing droplets off the book he was reading. “Careful!”

“Sorry.” Andrew scrubbed his hands and arms, then collapsed onto his bed. “Right, I think we can talk now. Mrs Farris next door works in a shirt factory, so she’ll be out.”

Liam nodded, carefully setting aside his book. He had changed out of the priest’s cassock and collar into a plain working man’s clothes, and had arranged the chair and small table into a desk for himself. “So what do you know about Ambrose Lynch?”

“He’s the head government assassin. He’s got a daughter who’s more dangerous than he is, and an apprentice that Albright the crime boss is interested in.”

“Didn’t know he was married.”

“I don’t know about any wife, just a daughter. How do you know so much about him?”

Liam waved a hand dismissively. “I know what Phelan told me. Lynch is Irish, didn’t you know?”

“No. Dammit, Liam, I don’t know anything that you haven’t told me!”

Liam sighed. “All right. We’ll start from the beginning. Lynch was born and raised in County Mayo, and while he was in university in Dublin, he and his closest friend got into a fight over a woman. They dueled and Lynch ended up killing the man, and instead of facing justice, he ran. Phelan knew him at the time, and he had some nationalist sympathies.”

“So that’s why you’re after him?”

“More or less. If he’s mixed up in this government’s corruption, that will make it harder just to talk to him, though.” Liam pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed again. “Andrew, you have a gift for finding the middle of whatever trouble there is to be found.”

“I learned it from you, Mr Boru.” Andrew grinned. “But if all this is true, then the rebellion leadership needs to know. Would you come tell them?”

Liam’s face darkened. “I don’t know, Andrew. I don’t trust--”

Andrew leaned forward, expression serious. “But I do. They’re my friends, Liam. People’s lives are at stake. You think Phinn or Cordelia don’t believe in this as much as you believe in Ireland? Don’t be an ass just because they’re English.”

Liam scowled. “That is uncalled for, Andrew O’Rourke.”

“No, Liam. You’re not being fair to them. And… I want you to meet Cordelia.”

Liam studied his brother’s face for a moment, then sighed again. “Mary and Joseph. You find whatever trouble there is to be found, don’t you?”

Andrew grinned. “I learned from you.”

 


	4. Liz Maximoff / @multifandomgal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @multifandomgal.

Dark clouds filled the sky above London-in-the-Air, and everyone was expecting a sudden downpour of rain, but tucked safely away in a small tea rooms sat Liz Maximoff and Bram Emery. Since the rebellion started getting even more serious, and the government had been shifting, the two friends hadn't had many chances to meet up, so they now had a lot to catch up on. Their relatively hushed conversation had covered everything from work to the weather, and now that there were fewer people around, talk had turned to the rebellion and it's impact.

"...so what do you think they're going to do to Hazard? I mean, he's got to be taken care of somehow, and if I were in charge I'd want to get rid of him pretty quickly." Elizabeth mused, before taking another sip of her tea. In response, Bram rolled his eyes theatrically before replying "Who knows? I'm sure they'll get rid of him somehow, but it's all a bit complicated at the moment. Things sure would have been a lot simpler if Phoebe's plan had worked out that time--" At this point, Bram suddenly stopped talking, as if he'd said something he probably shouldn't have done. But Liz's interest had been piqued, and she wasn't one to let things go easily.

"What plan? What did Phoebe try and do?" She questioned, forgetting for a moment to keep her voice down. This gained her a few disapproving looks from the waiters, and the family having afternoon tea by the window, but she didn't really care. Bram looked awkwardly down at the table before replying "Look, you've got to promise not to tell anyone I told you - especially my sister!" This comment made Liz smirk, but after a disapproving glance from her friend, she went back to drinking her tea as Bram continued. "So... a little while back, Phoebe may have almost managed to assassinate Hazard..."

Elizabeth nearly spat tea out all over the table. "No! Really?" She exclaimed, in a state of shock and disbelief, but also thinking that her respect for Phoebe Emery had gone up even more. Bram nodded and grinned in reply. "It's true! She was a bit disappointed that it didn't work out, but I'd like to think it didn't half scare the man!" The pair burst out laughing at that comment, and the mental image of the terrifying Chairman Hazard looking scared for his life because of something a dainty ballerina did. It seemed that every resistance member had their secrets, and Liz sure did love uncovering ones like this!


	5. Dr. Jhandir / @sakuuya.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @sakuuya, aka [sakuuya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakuuya).

No one answered when Dr. Jhandir knocked at Lord Beck’s terrace house on Omicron. Perhaps he’s just waiting for a servant to answer it, the doctor thought nastily as he stood on tiptoe to try and peer into the fanlight. The plunge from Alpha to this prim little middle-class neighborhood must have been a shock to the nobleman’s system even if, in Dr. Jhandir’s opinion, it barely even counted as hiding out.

Dr. Jhandir tried the knob, and then, when it proved locked, looked furtively up and down the street, aware of exactly how it would look for him to go creeping around to the back. But he had no choice: Beck hadn’t been at the infirmary for nearly a week now, and with Phinn busy trying to worm details about the government’s mechanical men out of his old school chums, it fell on Dr. Jhandir to find out what on earth Beck thought he was playing at.

At least Beck’s house was a bookend, so it was no trouble for Dr. Jhandir to reach the back, and he was able to look into the ground-floor windows as he went, though it turned out they were all covered by dark, heavy curtains.

The back door was unlocked. Dr. Jhandir entered into a kitchen that would have looked completely unused, were it not for the empty bottles of alcohol littering the available services.

“Hello? Beck, are you in?” Dr. Jhandir called. No one answered, but he could hear the telltale creak of someone walking on one of the upper floors, then coming down the steps. Dr. Jhandir instinctively reached for the knife in the pocket of his waistcoat, but stopped himself from pulling it out—he was the trespasser here, after all, and he doubted Beck would have the slightest compunction about using lethal force against a knife-wielding Indian intruder.

“Beck?” he said again as he slowly pulled open the door to the stairwell, only to have it shoved open forcefully as the doctor was nearly bowled over by Earl Grey, Beck’s practically horse-sized dog.

“Down! Get down,” the doctor commanded in his sternest voice. The damn animal took its paws off his shoulders, at least, but continued to sniff and lick at his hands. Dr. Jhandir shuddered. He hadn’t thought that he’d encounter anything worse today than Lord Beck, but he hadn’t counted on Beck’s pet slobbering disease all over him. He backed further into the kitchen, letting Earl Grey get clear of the doorway, then spun around and rushed into the stairwell himself, shutting the dog in the kitchen. Perhaps it would make a mess of the place, but Dr. Jhandir did not consider that his problem.

So Beck likely wasn’t at home; surely he would have heard that thing barking. Nonetheless, Dr. Jhandir went upstairs rather than exiting through the sitting room. The least Beck owed him was a place to wash his hands.

There was a little washroom on the second story just off the bedroom, and Dr. Jhandir took off his jacket so he could scrub past his wrists. When he was finished, he rolled his sleeves back down and shrugged his jacket on, then began buttoning himself up as he walked out of the washroom. It therefore took him a moment to realize that the previously-empty bedroom was now occupied.

Lord Beck was standing in front of the door to the stairs and swaying, likely from drink. A certain puffiness to his face suggested he’d been crying. Dr. Jhandir had seen Beck in moods like this from time to time. His coping strategy had always been to get as far away as possible—the Science Division had paid him well, but nowhere near enough for him to play nursemaid to a grown man. Unfortunately, Beck was blocking the only egress, so Dr. Jhandir set his face into a mask of utter disinterest in the hope that Beck would get the hint and let him leave.

“You!” Beck bellowed, too loud for the size of the room. He lurched toward Dr. Jhandir, eyes wild. “The hell are you doing here?”

“I don’t know if you recall, but you do have duties to the rebellion—to me—and you’ve been absent for days now. I came to drag you back, although now that I see the state you’re in, I’m beginning to think I should just recommend that we cut ties with you altogether. This kind of sloppy self-pity has no place in any kind of serious organization. Why, when I tell Dr. Massey what you’ve been doing—”

“All my father’s affection, wasted on you,” Lord Beck interrupted, apparently not having paid any attention to Dr. Jhandir’s actual words. He was a little too close now, and his breath stank of gin. Dr. Jhandir scowled, but having the nobleman looming over him was more annoying than threatening when Beck was so obviously inebriated.

“As I recall, I met the earl exactly once, at some pointless social function. He called me a wog. I hardly think you have to worry about him thinking too fondly of me.” Then, because Beck’s continued proximity was grating on his nerves, Dr. Jhandir added, “Ah, but of course the earl isn’t truly your father, is he?”

That at least caused Beck to stumble back out of Dr. Jhandir’s personal space. Dr. Jhandir had expected the other man to be shocked, but instead Beck looked furious.

“You knew! All this time, you knew, and you let me live a lie while you slithered into his good graces!” Dr. Jhandir started to say something snide about how Beck should perhaps keep his personal papers more secure, but Beck steamrolled right over him: “I can’t imagine what Massey sees in a little thug like you, when he could have put his trust in his own son!”

Beck swallowed heavily, looking like he might burst into tears at any moment. Dr. Jhandir didn’t care; his thoughts were racing with this new information. He’d never had any reason to investigate the truth of Beck’s parentage. The mere fact of Beck’s illegitimacy would be enough to ruin him if it got out, and taking down some other dull nobleman in the process hadn’t seemed worth the extra work.

But if Beck was Dr. Massey’s bastard…that was a very different animal. It certainly explained why Massey had forced Dr. Jhandir to swear not to reveal Beck’s indiscretions with Irving Suttler: Those “unforeseen consequences” would be the shaming of Massey’s son.

Beck had continued to rail while Dr. Jhandir was lost in thought—ignoring Beck’s melodrama was a skill he’d long mastered—and was still going as the doctor came back to himself.

“Just before you died, Charlotte Sterling practically begged me to let her have you to help with those mechanized corpses of hers, you know,” Beck rambled, paying no attention to Dr. Jhandir’s reactions. “I didn’t see how she could have that much use for someone like you. If I’d handed you over, would you still have made it your mission to destroy me, to steal my father’s love?”

“I…” Dr. Jhandir started, but trailed off as he gave the question some thought. Not that he had been consciously trying to poison Dr. Massey against Beck—and from the way Dr. Massey spoke of his son, Dr. Jhandir suspected there was little enough affection there to be damaged—but would he have joined the rebellion if he’d had a chance to work under someone other than Beck?

Certainly, the mechanical men were fascinating, and he was itching to get his hands on one so he could see what made it tick, but would that have been enough? He had only vague memories of Lady Sterling. She had hung around the laboratories often enough for it to be indecent but had never paid him any mind, as far as he knew. There was no reason to believe that she would have treated him any better, just another titled solipsist taking credit for his labor.

“I thought you didn’t have any truck with Lady Sterling’s project,” Dr. Jhandir said instead, trying to steer the untethered ship of Beck’s thoughts toward useful information instead of self-pity.

“No, Charlotte didn’t want my help. Just yours,” Beck said in a tone of pure venom. “Another educated, seemingly-intelligent English person you’ve bamboozled somehow. Hah, I imagine you could waltz right into their factory under the Gilded Hall and Charlotte and Doland would welcome you with open arms, even now.”

Dr. Jhandir listened, fascinated. If he had known that Beck’s secrets would come spilling out like this, he would have revealed the man’s illegitimacy a long time ago.

Beck fumbled with something inside his jacket, and then he was pointing a small pistol at Dr. Jhandir. Well, more or less: The Englishman’s intoxication meant that at any given moment, the gun’s barrel could be pointed anywhere within a two-foot radius. That fact didn’t make Dr. Jhandir feel any better—he had no idea how good a shot Beck was normally, but drunk, the man might shoot him anywhere.

“Thaddeus—” Dr. Jhandir tried but Beck cut him off.

“You’ve never fooled me for a moment. You can put on all the airs you like, but I’ve always been able to see the savage underneath. I remember what you were like when you first came to work for me. You have no idea what a burden it is, being so much more perspicacious than everyone around me, but I expected my father, at least, would know better.” Beck paused for a moment, then smiled an unsettlingly manic smile. “Or is that what he likes about you, that you’ll maim and kill for him without a stir of conscience? Well, you’re not the only one capable of taking a life.”

Dr. Jhandir had only a fleeting moment to be disgusted by Beck’s histrionics before Beck pulled the trigger, and the right side of Dr. Jhandir’s face erupted in pain. He reflexively clamped a hand over the wound. The bullet had only grazed his cheek, but it was still excruciating.

Beck was staring at him, wide-eyed, as though unable to believe he was still alive. Acting purely on instinct, Dr. Jhandir lunged, trying to knock the gun from Beck’s hand before the nobleman got it into his head to take another shot. Beck fell backwards when Dr. Jhandir tackled him, keeping his hold on the gun but slamming the back of his head against the wall. He slumped to the floor, groaning.

Dr. Jhandir hadn’t fallen any more gracefully, but he’d at least had Beck to cushion the impact, so he recovered first, scrambling to his feet. He pulled the knife from his pocket and waited, tensed, for Beck to move again. When, second after second, nothing happened except for a few flutters of Beck’s eyelids, Dr. Jhandir began to understand the magnitude of this opportunity.

He only had the knife, but there was plenty he could do without more specialized equipment. If anything, the possibilities were too numerous. He had dreamed about this day for years, and now that it was here, he was paralyzed with indecision. And besides, the rebellion would no doubt find out about Beck’s death, and presumably connect it to Dr. Jhandir, since multiple people knew that the doctor had called on Beck today. In his current state, with the wound on his cheek (the blood from which had already slowed to nearly nothing, thankfully), he could well claim self-defense, but that became more difficult the more…adventurous he got with his techniques. Perhaps—

Another gunshot rang out. Beck must have recovered somewhat from the concussion, though his head was still lolling and he looked half-asleep. This bullet buried itself in Dr. Jhandir’s thigh. Dr. Jhandir collapsed to the ground, but had the presence of mind to kick Beck’s gun hand with his other foot. The gun skittered away across the floor. Wincing, Dr. Jhandir hauled himself closer, grabbed Beck by his ridiculous long hair, and bashed his aristocratic head against the wall until the man lost consciousness again.

Once he was sure Beck was no longer a danger, Dr. Jhandir turned to his own wound. The bullet was small, and hadn’t pierced anything important as far as he could tell, but it was still imperative that he take care of it before taking care of Beck. For now, since he had no means to get to medical supplies quickly, he replaced his knife in its pocket, untied his tie, and re-tied it tightly around the wound. The tie had been one of his better ones—it was ruined now, of course—but at least it staunched his bleeding.

Dr. Jhandir pulled himself back over to Beck and gingerly felt along Beck’s ribs. Wasting no time now, he took out his knife again and stabbed Beck once in the chest, piercing his lung but not, crucially, his heart. A stab through the heart would kill him too quickly.

As he watched Beck bleed out and listened to the wet rattle of his dying breaths, Dr. Jhandir was overcome with such triumphant joy that he forgot the pain from his own wounds. He put his hands on Beck’s chest just to feel the bastard’s lifeblood on them, then sat transfixed until Beck was gone. He was still basking in the afterglow when he heard someone coming up the stairs. With his wounded leg, it wasn’t as though Dr. Jhandir could hide or escape, so he settled for trying not to look overly pleased by Beck’s death.

Cordelia French appeared in the open doorway; Dr. Jhandir had no idea how she’d gotten around Earl Grey. “Thaddeus—” she started to say, but changed her course as she took in the scene. “Anil? What the hell happened here?”

“I came looking for Beck because he had been shirking his duties at the infirmary,” Dr. Jhandir ground out, his pain flooding back now that he was no longer focusing on Beck’s. “He was crazed. He accused me of trying to steal your affections, as though he’d never met Andrew, and then shot me. Twice.”

Cordelia hurried into the room and helped Dr. Jhandir onto Beck’s bed before even checking on Beck himself.

“Is he dead?”

“Yes,” Dr. Jhandir replied, doing his best not to sound proud. “I stabbed him. He would have killed me if I hadn’t.”

Cordelia looked Dr. Jhandir up and down, lips pursed. The doctor imagined he must have cut quite the pathetic figure. Not how he preferred to present himself, particularly when so many were poised to strike against him at any sign of weakness.

“I don’t expect you to believe me,” Dr. Jhandir continued, “but I didn’t come here with any intent to harm him. I wanted him to stop embarrassing the both of us and get back to work.”

“I believe you,” Cordelia said after a long moment of staring. “I was told that Thaddeus had been acting erratically, so I called to try and snap him out of it. I just wish I’d come sooner.”

Dr. Jhandir didn’t, but he nodded. “I’m sorry you had to see him like this.”

“Like what?” Cordelia asked, sounding distant. “‘Cut off even in the blossoms of his sin, unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd; no reckoning made, but sent to his account with all his imperfections on his head?’”

“Excuse me?” Dr. Jhandir thought that perhaps the wound in his thigh was more severe than he had initially assumed, if it was making him hear nonsense.

“‘Nothing in his life became him like the leaving of it.’”

“Cordelia, what are you talking about?”

“Not a fan of the classics, are you? Something simpler, then: ‘A good riddance.’” She sighed, then smiled wanly. “I truly did care about him, once upon a time. I don’t think he deserved it.”

Dr. Jhandir wasn’t comfortable with even that level of sentiment over Beck’s death, and besides, he had more pressing matters on his mind: “Will you tell people what you saw, and that you believe my account of what happened? I’m not sure my own word will be good enough. The way Beck and I felt about each other is well-known.”

If, in one last indignity, he was drummed from the rebellion because Beck attacked him, he would make them pay, but perhaps that wouldn’t be necessary.

“Yes,” Cordelia said firmly. “I told you I believe you, and I’m a woman of my word. Can you walk?”

“I…would prefer not to.”

“Well, I’ll help you down to the main floor, but I’ll have to leave you here while I arrange a way to get you back to the infirmary without bringing the authorities down on all our heads. You’re lucky I’m so good at moving things through this city unseen.”

“Thank you,” Dr. Jhandir said. He tried to smile, but even he could tell that it came out as a grimace. “Does Beck have any medical supplies, do you know?”

“I doubt it, but I’ll look around before I leave. All right, let’s get you up on the count of three: One, two, three!”

Standing up was perfectly awful, and walking was worse, even with Cordelia bearing some of his weight. He persevered, though, made it down the stairs, and collapsed gratefully in a chair in the ground-floor sitting room.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Cordelia promised when she came back from her exploration of the house. “In the meantime, I couldn’t find any real medical supplies, but I cut up a sheet so you can wrap yourself up better, and I grabbed you some anesthetic.”

She handed him the makeshift bandages and what turned out to be a half-empty decanter of absinthe.

“Thank you,” Dr. Jhandir said again. “This will be helpful. But still, hurry back.”

Cordelia nodded, then disappeared out the front door, locking it behind her. Once she was gone, Dr. Jhandir soaked one of the bandages in absinthe and took a swig for himself, too, before untying his tie and pressing the wet bandage to the wound. He hissed at the way it stung, on top of the pain of the wound itself. Still, he couldn’t deny a deep satisfaction at the knowledge that Beck was dead, and by Dr. Jhandir’s own hand, no less. He wouldn’t soon forget the way the knife felt as it slid into Beck’s chest, nor the moment when Beck finally breathed his last.


	6. Dr. Suttler / @closetcellist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @closetcellist, aka [closetcellist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/closetcellist). Right now, it consists of a supplemental set he wrote for this round, but not his mains story for the round.

Dr Jhandir was irritated.  
  
This state was at least partially the fault of his injuries, as even he would admit he made a far worse patient than he did a physician. But mainly, at the moment, he was irritated with Irving Suttler.  
  
This, too, would surprise few people, though the reason for his current irritation was new, and new in a way that would have made him worried if he hadn't already settled on being irritated instead. After the mess and effort spent stitching himself up after the incident with Beck, he'd had to spend more time than he liked making sure everyone understood (if not fully believed) that he'd done what he'd done out of self-defense. Some people believed more readily than others, which he had anticipated, unfortunate as that might be. He'd expected resistance from Suttler, been prepared for it, in fact, but what he'd got was...nothing. After all the fuss he'd made about that damned dog, the good doctor had simply said nothing about Lord Beck, and his usually so clearly-telegraphed moods had been, suddenly, a tightly closed book to Dr Jhandir. It felt as though, after playing a game the same way for years, the man had gone and changed the rules (or, somehow, learned how to finally play, and that felt unfair, which in turn felt ridiculous).  
  
It was getting on his nerves.  
  
After a long few days spent in bad-tempered recovery and reputational damage control, Dr Jhandir finally cornered Dr Suttler in the kitchen to finally hash things out, trapping him in the middle of doing the washing up.  
  
"I feel I need to make things absolutely clear," Dr Jhandir said without preamble, watching Suttler closely. The man paused for a moment but didn't turn around, resuming his task once the moment had passed.  
  
"Things?" Suttler asked, though there was no universe in which he did not know what Dr Jhandir meant.  
  
"It was entirely self-defense," Dr Jhandir continued, ignoring Suttler’s question. The other man gave a quiet, noncommittal hum, which meant nothing at all. "I'm not in the habit of committing murder," Dr Jhandir continued, narrowing his eyes at Dr Suttler’s back. This was met with another unconvincing hum. "You can ask Captain French, if you must," he added, acidicly.  
  
"You know," Dr Suttler said, finally turning around and joining the conversation, though perhaps not where Dr Jhandir had left it. "I almost feel as though I should thank you."  
  
Dr Jhandir could not entirely contain his shock at that, goggling a bit, which he’d feel stupid about later. As he stared at him, Suttler's expression turned into one so complicated he must have borrowed it from someone else. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, replaced again with a closed blankness. "But I won't," he finished, turning back to the sink. "And I'd prefer not to discuss this any further, if it's all the same to you."  
  
It wasn't all the same to him, which Suttler must have known, and as Dr Jhandir stood there, still staring, the thought stole over him disconcertingly that maybe Suttler wasn't a closed book—just one now written in very fine print in a language he didn't know. A thought as unwelcome as it was troubling.  
  
"Was there something else?" Dr Suttler asked, not turning around again.  
  
"Nothing," Dr Jhandir snapped, turning to leave with as much dignity as he could.  
  
Now he was furious.

 


	7. Rebecca Tyler / @lunaofthemiste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @lunaofthemiste.

“Well, you know, the party is only a few weeks away and…are you even listening to me?” Octavia asked harshly.

Rebecca found herself abruptly sitting up, doing her best to feign interest. “Of course I was, dear Octavia.” She said politely, taking a sip of her tea.

“As I was saying, the party is only a few weeks away, and there is a lot to do.” Octavia continued, frowning. “Invitations have already been sent out, but-”

“Have you hired an event planner?” Rebecca interrupted. “It might serve you well to hire one instead of trying to plan the party all by yourself.” She suggested cautiously.

Octavia glared. “Of course I’ve hired one! I’ve hired a dozen, and none seem to understand the importance of this event. It seems that I’ll just have to do the job by myself - and with your help, of course.”

Rebecca nodded. “Of course.” She agreed, although she wasn’t at all thrilled about the idea of working closer with her sister-in-law.

“This party must be great, but not as great as…” Octavia trailed off, looking around.

“Not as great as…?” Rebecca echoed, and Octavia shushed her.

“Not as great as the party where Nathan announces his mayoral run.” Octavia whispered.

“Mayoral run?” Rebecca asked. “Octavia, don’t be serious. Mayor Steers-”

“Let’s just say he won’t be with us much longer.”

“Octavia, what are you talking about?” Rebecca asked, frowning.

“One of the other ladies I have tea with said that Mayor Steers is ill, and he doesn’t have much time left.” Octavia said smugly, taking a sip of her tea.

“How much longer does he have, then?”

“A year, I’d gather. Maybe less.” Octavia shrugged. “It’ll be the perfect opportunity for Nathan. He’s young, and he’ll bring in a new and better generation of leadership to this dingy old city.”

Rebecca nodded. “Mhm-hm.”

Octavia then smiled at her, something Rebecca hadn’t expected. “You’ll keep that to yourself, Rebecca, won’t you?”

Rebecca nodded again. “Of course.” She said, more hesitantly this time.

“You’ll do that and more unless you want news of your affair with a low-towner to come out.” Octavia’s tone completely changed, and Rebecca almost spit out her tea.

“I believe I misheard you.” Rebecca feigned innocence. “I am not having an affair.”

“Well, you are seeing someone, then. Someone below your class. Your father really would be ashamed of you.” Octavia gloated, and Rebecca found herself starting to panic.

“What makes you think I am doing that?” Rebecca asked, doing her best to fix the problem.

“Let’s see here, hm? You repeatedly leave to ‘other platforms’ when you have no friends, you have been uncomfortably happy recently, and you’re wearing perfume.”

“I always wear perfume.”

“It’s horrible, really. Now, unless you want your father to hear about this, you’re going to do exactly what I say…”

Rebecca listened to Octavia, her stomach feeling heavier and heavier. It was better that Octavia knew about the relationship with Tristan than the rebellion, but it was still very, very unfortunate for either to be known.

***

Hours later, Rebecca sat on her window seat, a pen pressed to paper but no words to write. There were no words to say, nothing to do.

She had messed everything up, like always.

Octavia knew about Tristan, and even though she was unaware of his identity, she knew enough to count. Rebecca could already imagine her father’s reaction, and she knew it wouldn’t take long for him to connect that the Curtis family practically ran the rebellion.

She hadn’t felt quite so…alone in a while. Even keeping the secret about Amelie was different, since no one else had been in real danger. This was different, this targeted Tristan in a new way.

Rebecca sighed, opening one of the books on her shelf and was surprised when a note fell out. Upon examining it, she realized it was from Tristan, a note for her to meet up with him.

She realized what she needed to do with a sickening feeling. The image of Oscar came up in her mind, his body in a pool of blood, absolutely lifeless.

That could not happen to Tristan. It could never happen again.

She stood up and walked to her fireplace, holding the note gingerly in one hand. Carefully, she dropped it in, watching as the flames destroyed it.

It was better to break his heart, she reasoned, than to watch him die.

 


End file.
